


warm

by vellichorthing



Series: one shots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Prostitute Harry, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellichorthing/pseuds/vellichorthing
Summary: Harry gets picked up by Louis off the street late one night.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: one shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834300
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	warm

Harry’s eyes glistened with light from the skyscrapers of New York City. He felt a wave of calmness hit him as the wind picked up speed, rushing through his ragged hair. He hadn’t remembered the last time he showered, or when his last meal was. All he knew was that the lights from the fancy, wealthy hotels shined brighter than any other night.

He wished he could see the stars through the polluted air. He remembered how they glowed from back home in Iowa, where the tall grass slid through his long fingers as he would walk barefoot through the family farm, his gentle face looking up to the sky, where Orion’s belt was in perfect view. He could smell the cornbread his mother would cook on Sunday evenings from a mile away, his mouth salivating at the thought of the soft bread in his mouth.

Now, he sat against a graffiti covered wall, his skin covered in dirt and sweat as he fixed his broken shoes with a zip tie he found in one of the neighboring trash bins. He took the zip tie, pushing it through two of the holes in the sole of his boot and fastened the plastic together. _There_ , he thought, _all better_.

When he moved to New York, he never expected to become such filth, to live in the dirt of millions of strangers. He never thought he would have become nothing more than the gum on some tourist’s shoe. A man, who became a prostitute.

He never thought men could be prostitutes. After all, he had only ever seen women on TV play the role. And yet, the position simply fell into his lap when he was at his lowest. He laughed to himself while a lit cigarette hung from his lips; he’s lower than he was then.

The word “prostitute” stung his ears, made his heart ache. He had lost contact with his family years ago; his money plundered quickly from the expensive taste of the city and fell to the streets at 24. He had originally come to the Big Apple to make something of himself, to rid himself of the life he had in Iowa; a simple farmhand who worked the land with his brothers and father. He wished he had that life still.

Every night, he would find some handsome young man looking to have a quick fuck, all for a little money to pay for food, or a new pair of shoes, or a comfy blanket to keep him warm during the harsh winter nights of the city that never slept. Sometimes, he was given drugs in exchange for his services, but he would later sell them to make a quick buck. It was dangerous; many a time, he would find himself in a deadly situation, with a drunk man taking advantage of him or someone who wanted to keep him around as a little pet. He learned quickly to have his pocketknife with him.

In a matter of months, he had lost everything; his poorly paying job working at the deli shop on 5th street, his insanely expensive apartment in Brooklyn, his possessions which he sold to simply stay alive.

He had tried a homeless shelter, but it was so run down and corrupt that he found himself in the arms of a stranger one night, who had promised him the world. He was soon let down, thrown out onto the street once more. He made the street his home.

During the day, he had his sign set up, pleading for any sort of income a stranger could offer. He would make about $20 a day, sometimes more if the rich men of Wall Street decided to be a bit generous that day. In the night, he would wear his lowcut shirt with an unzipped jacket, walking around until he found a potential customer. He would take all his belongings (which included his puffy blanket and one change of clothes, plus the mason jar full of money and his cheap watch he found sitting on an open windowsill) in his backpack, and by the morning, he would be dropped off in a new part of town, his routine the same.

This evening, he didn’t feel up to the task. He was sore from the other night, his arms aching, and his neck bruised from the man with a choking kink. He hated his life, he hated his “job”, and he hoped and prayed an angel would pluck him from Earth and take him home to Heaven.

He watched as cars and taxis drove by. He wondered what each person was up to, what parties they were headed to, how long their shift at work had been, wondered if they had a family to go home to. People passed him by, their coats long and covering them in warmth. He clutched onto his blanket a little tighter.

A young man walked down the sidewalk some time later, his black shoes squeaking against the wet concrete as the rain began to sprinkle down. Harry puffed on his cigarette as he watched the man slow his steps, his blue eyes somehow bright in curiosity in the dead of night. Harry pushed his mason jar out a little further.

“Any change?” he barely spoke, always nervous about the outcome of him asking. The man smiled, pulling out his thick wallet and placing some bills into the jar. Harry thanked him kindly, his fingers shivering.

“Cold night, huh?” the man attempted to make conversation. Harry nodded, “Very.”

“I hope that helps you,” the man spoke with a softness to his voice, “Get you a hotdog or something.”

“It will, thank you again,” Harry looked up at the beautiful man, the lights from behind him making him seem like an angel, “I like your coat.”

“Thank you,” the man looked at his coat, then back at Harry. His eyes flickered for a moment in thought, before removing the article of clothing and handing it to him, “You need this more than I do.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “No, I couldn’t possibly—”

“Take it, please,” the man insisted, setting the black coat onto Harry’s lap, “I have a dozen more.”

Harry hesitantly took the coat, standing up to put it on. It fit perfectly.

“Looks better on you than me,” the man chuckled, “Fits you nicely.”

“It’s very comfortable,” Harry couldn’t help but relish at the idea of wearing something clean and fresh. It smelled of vanilla, a heavenly scent.

The man looked at Harry for a moment longer, then at his watch, “I wouldn’t usually do this, but I have a spare room you can stay the night in if you’d like? Take a shower, get some food in you. Whatever you like.”

Harry was astounded at the generosity, “You don’t know me.”

“I suppose I’ll have to find out who you are then,” the man stuck his hand out, “I’m Louis.”

“Harry,” he shook his hand, the warmth seeping into his cold veins, “I appreciate the offer, but I promise, I’m okay.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Louis raised an eyebrow, “Trust me, I just want to help.”

Harry stared at Louis, taking in his features. At this point, he had learned to be able to know a person simply by the way they looked. Louis seemed to be a genuine man with honest intentions; he was willing to let a stranger in his home, after all. He had his hands out of his pockets, swaying at his side as he waited for Harry’s answer. Harry noticed he had a crinkles by his eyes.

“Why would you want to help me?”

Louis thought for a moment, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Do you blame me?”

“No,” Louis smiled, “I understand … I just … could use some company, I suppose.”

Harry wasn’t sure by what he meant by company. Was it casual company, like a friend would have, or something more?

He turned around, looking at his spot on the ground. It was bleak, covered with stains of old newspapers, where the ink had permanently become painted to the ground. There was a weird stack of sewage in the corner of the brick building, and he had noticed a rat scurry by earlier. It was no place to sleep.

How could he say no to a kind stranger’s offer of a comfy bed and warm shower, which he hadn’t had in weeks. He could either risk getting bit by an angry rat or risk the chance this man’s intentions were more sinful. He decided on the latter. He felt the weight of the pocketknife in his pocket.

“Alright, I’ll come with you—”

“Great! I can make you some coffee, or tea, or whatever you’d like,” Louis seemed a bit too giddy, “You can sleep in if you’d like; the bed is quite comfortable.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry became shy as he pushed his blanket and mason jar into his backpack, “I don’t mind tea.”

“Perfect,” Louis waited for Harry to zip up the backpack. He noticed his broken shoes, and the zip tie and duct tape that held them together.

They strolled down the street together in silence. It was highly unusual for Harry; usually, the person had a car, and would have him sit in the back seat as he took him to a fancy hotel, away from prying eyes or a wife back at home.

Around the corner and a few blocks away, he found himself in front of a modest apartment building. Louis put in a code before opening the door, letting Harry inside first. They walked up a flight of stairs before entering a modern apartment, decorated with some pictures of presumably family on the wall and some fake plants in the corner near the couch. He stood awkwardly in the doorway as Louis made his way to the small kitchen, preparing some tea for them.

“Please, take a seat anywhere,” Louis suggested as he turned on the stove, boiling some water in a golden-colored pot. Harry obliged cautiously, setting his backpack down near the front door. He removed his shoes, revealing his roughed-up feet that were covered in scratches and bruises.

Louis looked over, “Oh! I’ll bring your bag into the other room, is that alright?”

Harry had never felt such kindness in his life. He had no idea how to respond, “Yes, thank you.”

“Of course,” Louis walked away from the stove, grabbing the bag with care, and walked away towards another room. Harry watched as he flicked the light on, setting the bag down on the freshly made bed.

Louis made his way back to the kitchen, grabbing two white coffee cups and some tea packets from the pantry. He poured the water in both glasses, plopping the bags into the steaming cups. As he stirred their drinks, he looked up at Harry’s sweaty face, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m just curious … how long have you been out there for?”

Harry thought about it, “About a year or so.”

Louis’ eyes widened, “A year? My goodness, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Harry assured him as Louis walked over with the cups, setting his own cup onto a coaster on the wooden coffee table, “I’ve gotten accustomed to it.”

“I hope things turn around for you,” Louis was sincere with his words, “You seem like a nice guy.”

“Thank you,” Harry felt like he couldn’t say it enough, “I’m not sure how to pay you back for your generosity.”

“No need,” Louis smiled as he sipped his tea, his ankles crossed, “I don’t mind the company.”

Company. Harry was still unsure what he meant by company.

“So …” Harry felt incredibly awkward, “When should we get started?”

Louis glanced over at him through his eyelashes, “Get started with what?”

“You know …” Harry removed his shirt, revealing hickeys lined up across his collarbone, small bruises on his neck. A small tattoo sat below a larger hickey, one that had been made with pure lust. Louis nearly spat out his drink.

“Oh … oh!” Louis immediately set his cup down, “I had no idea you were …”

“I’m sorry,” Harry stood up, his curly, unkept hair bouncing, “I can leave—”

“No, no,” Louis stood with him, “Please, I … I only want you here as … a friend. I just want to help you out if you’d like. You can take a shower, some clothes if you need, I have a pair of shoes that might fit if you want them,” he looked down at his feet, “I’ve got a first aid kit in the bathroom, we can get you cleaned up.”

Harry sat back down, tears welling in his eyes; he was overwhelmed. He rubbed at his face, a tear escaping down his cheek, “I don’t understand, why would you want to help some random hobo, some low-life prostitute?”

The word stung in Louis’ ears, a solemn look on his face as he sat down once again, “No one deserves that kind of life … especially you. You seem so … so kind, so pure. You caught my attention.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” Harry couldn’t help but chuckle slightly, “I don’t want to feel like a charity case.”

“I truly don’t mean to make you feel that way,” Louis grabbed Harry’s hand comfortingly, “I just … I just want to be a friend to you.”

Harry crossed his legs, feeling a bit more comfortable, more relaxed, “Alright … I’ve never had much of a friend before.”

Louis smiled, “I hope I can be one to you.”

Harry smiled, a true smile, one he hadn’t felt in a while as he sipped his tea, “This is nice tea.”

“Thank you, I was hoping you’d like it,” Louis grinned, looking at Harry’s hair, “Maybe you should clean up, and then we can talk some more, unless you’d like to sleep.”

“No, no, we can talk after,” Harry set the cup down, “Where is the shower?”

Louis led him to the bathroom, showing him how the tub worked before grabbing him some fresh towels and a pair of clothes to wear to bed. When Louis closed the door, Harry stripped of his rags, looking at his nude body in the mirror.

He felt tears drip down his face as he stared at his reflection. He noticed all the bruises that lined his waist. There were hickeys all along his chest, and he had mysterious red splotches lining his inner thighs. He felt so dehumanized, so awful as he rubbed his hands across the marks. He could feel the cold hands of men touching him as he poked at his hip bones that stuck out like a sore thumb.

The feeling of the warm water against his skin enlightened his senses as he scrubbed his body down with peppermint soap. He immediately felt better as he metaphorically washed away the sins of man from his flesh, the dirt and grime spinning down the drain. He felt small burns on his feet as water splashed into his open wounds. He scrapped at his scalp, washing away the oil in his hair, his face fresh and clean.

He stepped out of the white tub; the pads of his feet pressed against the cool tile. He looked at himself in the mirror once more; he already felt more like himself once again. He found some toothpaste in the drawer, careful not to snoop around too much as he placed some on his finger and scrubbed his teeth with the minty paste. He hadn’t felt so clean in a long time.

When he walked out into the living room with his sweats and t-shirt on, he saw Louis crisscrossed on the sofa, his cup of tea empty. Louis eye’s shined as he stared at Harry. Louis could see how truly beautiful this man was now; he had a nice jawline, beautiful curly brown hair that flopped to the side of his face, his green eyes full of life.

“Looking better already,” Louis grinned as he rubbed his palms against his pajama pants, “Come, sit!”

Harry obliged, taking a seat in front of Louis, crossing his long legs as Louis did. He tucked his hands in his lap as he asked, “So, what do you do?”

“I work at a bank near Wall Street,” Louis answered, “Good money. Better than my old job as a waiter in Manhattan.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Sometimes,” Louis shrugged, “I’m not the best at math, but thankfully calculators exist.”

Harry laughed, “Thankfully.”

“Did you grow up, here in New York?” it was Louis’ turn to ask a question.

“No, I’m originally from Iowa,” Harry smiled at the thought, “A small town, full of farmers. Typical, I suppose.”

“Never been,” Louis admitted, “I’ve only ever been within New York. Originally from Albany.”

“Nice,” Harry commented, “It’s pretty up there.”

“Yes, it is,” Louis sighed, reminiscing, “I miss it sometimes.”

“I can understand that.”

They sat in silence for a moment. As Harry stared off at something on the wall, Louis took the time to admire the stranger before him. For someone who had been homeless for some time, he was stunning. His skin looked so soft. Louis desperately wanted to place his hand against the man’s cheek and feel the skin beneath his fingertips.

Louis was hesitant before speaking, “What … how did you …”

Harry glanced over at him, his pretty pink lips wet and shiny, “Become homeless?”

Louis nodded, regretfully, “You don’t have to answer—”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry turned his body to him, “I had moved to New York two years ago, hoping to get somewhere with acting, maybe on Broadway. Big dreams, I had … I ended up finding a job at this deli place on fifth, but things didn’t work out so well … I got fired for being late all the time and got evicted from my apartment. My parents … they don’t talk to me anymore, for reasons I won’t get into, so I was completely alone. Ended up going to a shelter, where I met this guy …”

“He was so handsome, so kind, funny, smart …” Harry sighed, looking down at his lap, “He gave me the world, basically. And then … he met someone new. Threw me away like used tissue paper. I couldn’t find another job, so I made my own … in the only way I knew how.”

Louis grasped Harry’s hand, “I’m so sorry.”

Harry stared at Louis, noticing how long and pretty his eyelashes were, “It’s okay … I’ve managed.”

“You deserve the world,” Louis blurted as Harry laughed wetly, “I’m serious! You have so much potential, it’s oozing out of you. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

“It’s hard to have any kind of confidence with the job that I do,” Harry admitted, his hair falling into his eyes, “It’s quite … dehumanizing.”

“I can imagine, or at least try to,” Louis continued to hold his hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, “I can see you being on Broadway.”

“Can you now?” Harry laughed. Louis nodded.

“Yeah, you’ve got the face for billboards,” Louis admitted, “You sing?”

“A bit,” Harry blushed, “Please don’t ask me to sing.”

“I won’t,” Louis smiled, “But I’d love to hear your voice sometime.”

“Maybe,” Harry winked. Louis blushed.

“I’ll tell you what,” Louis stood abruptly, Harry wishing he kept holding his hand, “Stay here for a little bit. Get yourself settled, find a job, we can look on the computer together tomorrow and try to find you something. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

“What about rent?” it was the first thing that came to Harry’s mind.

“That can come later, if you decide to stay after you’ve saved up some money for yourself. I could use a roommate anyway,” Louis practically grinned, “What do you say?”

“I’m a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” Harry was shaking. Louis sat back down, holding both his hands.

“Only if you want to. I want to help, that’s all. And trust me, you’re not a charity case for me, there’s just … something about you. I see the light in your soul that’s begging to get out.”

“You sure you’re not some kind of poet?” Harry chuckled, “You’d be a great one.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “Just say yes.”

Harry sat in thought for a moment. He dipped his head down, staring at his calloused hands. He could envision a future for the first time in a while. With enough money, he could start going to a therapist, get some psychiatric help to deal with the things in his chaotic life. He’d have a friend for the first time in years, and potentially make more.

He began to nod slowly, “Alright, fine. I’ll stay.”


End file.
